Running on Silent
by jyorraku
Summary: Talk is cheap.
1. Running on Silent

Title: Running on Silent

Author: jyorraku

Rating: PG-13

Category: Fluff Tongue

Codes: R/S

Summary: Talk is cheap.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Un-betaed.

People say genes can often a skip generation. Malcolm Reed had probably inherited the penchant to blow shit up from his grandfather, a Weapon Engineer Officer in the Royal Navy. His grandfather liked to be hands-on with his explosives, which was probably why as he grew older, he couldn't hear out of his left ear and was auditorily challenged in the right. Malcolm adored his grandfather and didn't let the lack of auditory speech deter him from communicating with the older man.

When Hoshi Sato mentioned--with a twinkle in her eyes--that one of the fastest ways to learn a new language was to gossip salaciously in that language, Malcolm snorted, quietly...in his head. Appearances to keep, after all. Although she has quite mastered Denobulan, from what he obliquely observed at the Mess. He shuddered to think what she and the ever curious doctor gossiped about.

Today, however, they no longer spoke in Denobulan. Rather, they didn't speak at all, but communicated with their hands. Phlox seemed to be the student this time. Malcolm watched from the corner of his eye. It was something he, as a tactical officer, was quite the expert.

_Bad dream, last night._

_...Scared?_

_Not scared. Bad naked dream._

He almost spat out his tea. His padd, he should concentrate on his work, most definitely. Yet, he knew Phlox was still chuckling and Hoshi grinning, though not without a tinge of embarrassment in her cheeks, which extended downward to her slender neck. The devil was in the details.

_Person I know? _Phlox signed haltingly.

He didn't pretend to read his padd any longer, though he wasn't as if he was gawking at them. Stealth of the highest order was still necessary, though etiquette had obviously gone out the window.

Hoshi paused for a few seconds, gnawing a bit at her left cheek, considering whether to share this tidbit or not. Then it was caution to the wind with a dirty smirk.

_He is really good with guns._

The rest of the day was an understandable blur. But when his hand brushed up against hers at the morning conference, it was electric.


	2. Talk is Cheap

This particular table in the mess was quickly becoming Malcolm's favorite. Never mind that it gave him an excellent view of the ship's communications officer and Chief Medical Officer. Why did he continue in this depraved act of 'signdropping'? It was most improper and he could think of several reasons why it was bad for him--and the people he was signdropping on, of course. Captain Archer would be displeased to know that the guy with his hands all over the ship's weapon's systems was so undisciplined. Alas, Captain Archer was not here and his eyes, his damned eyes, would not respond to reason or pleas for stoicism. How very traitorous of his eyes that they would not close and let him to think of England.

_I will eat a little today. I have self-defense class today, I don't want an upset stomach._

_Very smart. Do you enjoy the classes?_

_Yes..._ She made a face that belied her response.

Phlox would have to be blind not see that.

_Yes, but?_

_The drills are dull._

At least the conversation today was tame, even if she was complaining about the routines that he implemented. It couldn't be helped, most of the people on the ship were more brain than brawn. Their eyes would cross when he attempted to be creative.

_Sometimes I like it rough,_ she signed with a dainty shrug.

It took all his willpower--it decided this was definitely an excellent moment to kick in--to remain expressionless and appear nonplus at his table. England's monarchy would be extraordinarily proud of their servant today as he very forcefully demonstrated his allegiance via mental recitation of their entire lineage.

Phlox smiled, as if he heard Hoshi's complaint frequently and found it rather pedestrian in the scope of humanoid behavior.

_Perhaps a personal session with Lieutenant Reed would enhance the exercise. I'm sure he will rise to the occasion._ The doctor wiggled his eyebrows.

She tried to keep a straight face, but her cheeks pinked nonetheless. Sitting up straighter, Hoshi managed to sign very evenly, _We're already doing target practice together, I don't want to trouble him further._

Malcolm had to shove a spoonful of something into his mouth to prevent himself from shouting on top of the table, 'IT'S NO TROUBLE AT ALL!'

He blinked a few times to get the vehemence of the thought to clear his head, but the train of thoughts kept coming and he realized there were many things Hoshi could ask of him that would be no trouble at all. It was enough to make a man feel underutilized, the things she could ask of him, but didn't! And he was nothing if immensely resourceful!

That afternoon, Hoshi left the self-defense class with a bounce in her step.


	3. Loose Lips

Chapter 3: Loose Lips

For once first contact was going well. Then again, he probably jinxed himself just thinking about it. But so far so good and the briefing for their departure was almost over!

"And finally, there is a special ceremony with the prime ministers of the major regions," T'Pol was saying.

Special? Malcolm mouthed dubiously as he caught Hoshi's similar oh-here-it-comes eye roll. Leave it to T'Pol to leave the exciting stuff towards the end of the meeting.

"The twelve hour ceremony requires complete silence, to signify the unity of the participants."

"No talkin'? For twelve hours?" Trip asked incredulously.

"That is correct," T'Pol answered calmly, and Malcolm couldn't help but think T'Pol appreciated the ceremony for more than its ritual significance. Malcolm secretly enjoyed watching Trip blanch at the prospect of not speaking for hours at a time. Okay, maybe not so secretly as he felt his own lips quirk at sight of Trip's still-gaping jaw.

"To make sure complications," T'Pol paused, looking sideways at Trip, her eyes full of a meaning that wasn't exactly complimentary, "do not arise, I would suggest that only Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato accompany the Captain for this ceremony, as they are both familiar with the usage of Earth's international sign language."

Malcolm found himself nodding agreeably—until he saw Hoshi across the table, smiling at him. The woman knew how to smile, in a way that was, just so. He felt it all the way down to his toes—that is until he fully realized what T'Pol just said—then his heart skipped a very long beat. T'Pol probably reviewed their skill sets via their dossiers, and she just told everyone he knew how to sign.

Out loud.

For Hoshi to hear.

For Hoshi to know.

For Hoshi to realize.

He snuck a look back at her.

Hoshi wasn't looking in his direction anymore. But her lips, Malcolm swallowed heavily at the sight, her lips were still curved upward in a smile that now seemed to be, well, rather enigmatic.

Oh dear.


	4. I Know That You Know That I Know

Hoshi was assessing Captain Archer's furrow. It was one of great concentration as the Captain recited the alien ritual speech he was supposed to repeat at the end of today's ceremony. He was still butchering the words, but listening quite intently to the sound file while still keeping an eye on the shuttlepod's autopilot.

The Captain's inattentiveness to his passengers only increased the atmosphere of dread that Malcolm felt ever since T'Pol tattled on him. Yes, he knew Earth's international sign language, and it could very well come in handy during the silent ceremony, but T'Pol didn't have to tell everyone in the briefing. The element of surprise, something strategy, something tactics, something or other-it didn't matter! Honestly, of all the Vulcans to have as sub-commander on the ship, they had to have one that was a busybody.

"So, Malcolm," Hoshi started to say as she sidled up next to him on the bench, her hip bouncing off his.  
Malcolm stared roundly at her, swallowing. Here it comes, the moment of truth. She knew that he knew that she knew that he knew!

"Where did you learn how to sign?" she asked with a grin in her voice, coquettish eyeing him like it was Christmas Eve and he'd unexpectedly arrived on her doorstep with an large package. What? No! There will be no thoughts of packages, regular sized or large, around this devious minx of a woman. Why was she delaying the inevitable with this torture? Did she really want to see him sweat?

"Malcolm?" she insisted softly.

Yes, my dear, breath just a little more closer, the tips of my graying hairs have yet to curl in surrender to your siren's song, Macolm thought, seeking refuge in the famed British stoicism. But his blood pressure continued to spiral out of control, his skin felt hot underneath his uniform—he had it bad, quite so. Malcolm's thundering pulse skipped a few beats to register the fact that Hoshi was nearly breathing on top of him now. Bloodly fresh hell, was she a mind reader? He was being sarcastic! And if he wasn't sporting a large package before, he was embarrassingly on his way to doing so. Damn it, stiff upper lip—upper lip!

Wait a moment, what was her question again? Oh yes, grandfather, well, if ever there was a libido killer.

"My grandfather didn't like cochlear implants. He said the silence builds character. If I wanted to communicate with him, I had to do it his way," Malcolm answered with sad fondness.

"Oh, Malcolm." Hoshi reached out with a comforting hand.

Oh, Queen Mother. Malcolm stared dumbly at Hoshi's dainty white hand on top of his knee. Well, doesn't that just beat it…no, it doesn't! Dear mum, our communications officer will be the death of me, please send me my best suit. Hoshi couldn't not know what she was doing to him. She knew and she was going to get payback via his raging hormones.

"Will the beatings continue until Malcolm improves?" he muttered under his breath.

He forgot who was sitting next to him.

Hoshi twirled a strand of her hair innocently. "What are you talking about?"

Malcolm's eyes took on a hopeful glimmer. That was until Hoshi suddenly closed the inches of space left between them and graced him a smile so dirty steam was coming out of his ears. "Beatings, really. I would never do anything so uncouth."

Such as sign-dropping and manhandling her on the grappling mat because she privately signed to Phlox that she liked it a little rough? Up until then, Malcolm had a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn't connect the dots. But that last artfully crafted reply cinched it. She knew and she would continue to hold it over him until the end of time. And if it weren't for that pesky T'Pol, he would have gotten away with it too.

Hoshi sat back, and removed her hand from his knee by the way of deliberately brushing up against his groin. He would laugh but he was pretty sure it would come out as a frustrated groan. No beatings, but it would be torture, oh yes.

God help him.

He liked it.

"How am I doing, Hoshi?" Captain Archer finally looked over at them as he finished reciting the alien text.

Hoshi narrowed her eyes at the Captain. "Just don't put 'fluent' in your dossier, like you did with Vulcan."

Archer flushed bright red and went back to practicing.

Huh. Hoshi read Captain Archer's dossier and knew the languages he spoke. Of course she did, languages were her business, why wouldn't she review the crew's dossier to see who spoke what? Which meant she knew he knew how to sign before he knew she did.

"Um…" he started.

Hoshi glanced sideways at him before going about to pulling and tightening her ponytail. "Don't think too much, Malcolm. I like men of action."

Malcolm blinked. He felt his mouth stretch wide across his face like an idiot. Once he realized how he must look, he schooled the smile. With a surreptitious glance at Captain Archer—who was concentrating quite hard on the alien text—Malcolm hurled around and grasped Hoshi about the shoulders.

She was startled by the sudden gesture and swallowed a gasp as Malcolm untied her ponytail and kissed her like it was their first and last kiss.

As they both came up for air, Malcolm signed to Hoshi.

_You are completely and utterly perfect._

Hoshi smiled, her hair mussed and her eyes bright.

It was the sign of a beautiful beginning.

END


End file.
